Daniel's hair was already dry.
From where Michael stood, leaning lazily in front of him, the sharp lines of Daniel's abs were impossible to ignore. The soft lodge lighting highlighted every contour, the tattoos on his chest and arms looking darker against his skin.
"When did you even get this defined?" Michael muttered, reaching out without thinking and poking Daniel's stomach with open envy. "This is unfair."
Daniel didn't even flinch.
"I work out to maintain my natural body," he said calmly. "You eat to maintain your future pot belly."
Michael scoffed and punched his back lightly. "I do not have a pot belly. It's flat and smooth. God blessed me with a good body—I just wasn't meant to suffer for abs." Michael said as he showed his stomach Daniel glanced at him with lazy eyes his tongue slowly out before he retract it and poke his inner cheek with it.
Daniel hummed, unimpressed. "Go bathe before the hot water runs out. And before a teacher starts yelling for us to come downstairs."
Michael stretched dramatically, yawning as he walked toward the bathroom. "You're heartless."
The bathroom door shut behind him.
An hour later, the entire lodge gathered in the dining hall.
The room felt alive—built almost entirely from polished natural wood, the walls and ceiling blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest. Thick wooden beams stretched overhead, and large glass windows let in the fading orange glow of sunset, making it feel as though nature itself had been invited inside.
Long wooden tables filled the hall, sturdy and warm, their surfaces still carrying the faint scent of pine.
Dinner was self-service.
A generous Mexican spread covered the buffet tables:
steaming trays of seasoned grilled chicken and beef, bowls of colorful bell peppers and onions, fresh tortillas stacked neatly, rice flecked with herbs, beans simmered rich and thick, roasted corn, salsa in varying shades of red and green, and wedges of lime arranged with care.
Students lined up, filling their plates while laughing, arguing, and stealing glances at other tables.
After everyone had eaten, the teachers herded them outside for a short hike up the mountain trail and back.
Complaints echoed through the trees.
By the time they returned to the lodge's backyard clearing, nearly everyone collapsed onto the grass.
"Now I understand why they fed us first," someone gasped, hands on their knees.
Teams regrouped around assigned fire pits.
Ava and Daisy went off together to gather firewood, while Mia lingered behind, clearly unimpressed.
"I'm too tired for manual labor," she declared, brushing imaginary dirt from her clothes.
The girl with glasses quietly focused on seasoning the meat, her movements precise and calm. Asher crouched nearby, arranging the firewood, sparks catching as he struck the lighter.
Soon, flames crackled to life.
Asher and the girl worked together, turning the meat slowly over the fire, the smell rising rich and mouthwatering.
"Wow," Daisy said after taking a bite, eyes widening. "This is insanely good. Do you have magic hands?"
The girl blushed, waving her hand awkwardly. . I didn't do much."
Mia scoffed loudly. "Cheap meat made by amateurs will always taste dirty. No matter the seasoning."
Without hesitation, Daisy took a piece straight off Mia's plate and ate it.
"Still amazing," she said cheerfully.
Mia's glare could have burned hotter than the fire.
Ava laughed softly as Daisy fed her another bite. "It really is good."
Teachers soon handed out potatoes for everyone to roast, the firelight flickering across faces as laughter, irritation, and quiet tension mixed under the open sky.
Asher was the one serving.
He moved calmly between the fire pit and the table, handing out plates one by one. Everyone received theirs—meat glistening, potatoes roasted just right, steam rising into the cool night air.
Everyone except Mia.
She stared at her empty hands for a second, then looked up sharply.
"What the hell?" she snapped. "Where's my food?"
Asher blinked, genuinely surprised.
"Food?" he repeated lightly. "I thought you said you were allergic to food made by poor people."
Daisy burst out laughing. Ava covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Even Maki snorted. The girl with glasses coughed hard, nearly choking as she tried not to laugh—Asher looked so calm, so harmless, like he hadn't just dropped a verbal blade.
"I didn't want you to die," Asher continued, tone innocent. "And then I'd get blamed. So sorry—I can't feed your rich appetite. Maybe if you throw money outside this three-star lodge, a chef will magically appear."
Mia's face flushed red.
She shoved her chair back and stormed off without another word, boots crunching hard against gravel.
After dinner, Daisy volunteered to fetch water. The girl with glasses excused herself to the restroom, leaving the fire crackling softly between Asher and Ava.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Asher folded his arms and looked straight at her.
"Why did you tell the teacher I wanted to join the city competition?"
Ava tilted her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Forging my signature. Faking my approval," Asher said quietly. "Is that a crime, Miss President?"
Ava crossed her arms. "You're angry. I did it for you. I wanted to clear your name."
Before she could finish, Asher stepped forward and grabbed the back of her head, not rough—but firm enough to stop her breath.
"Do I look like a child to you?" he asked lowly. "Do I look stupid?"
Ava froze.
"You didn't do this for me," he continued. "You did it because your pride couldn't handle losing. And that's fine—but don't insult me by lying."
He released her and turned away.
"Get ready," he added over his shoulder. "You're going to lose more than once."
Ava glared at his back, fury burning hot.
"Stop," she said, following him.
He ignored her.
Asher reached his room and was about to close the door when Ava shoved inside, slamming it shut behind her. She pushed him back against the wooden door, one hand gripping his collar, the other pressing into the wall beside his head.
"I know exactly who you are," she said sharply. "You think this is some story where you act weak and suddenly shine?"
Their faces were inches apart.
"I hate losing," Ava continued. "But I hate being pitied even more. You're brilliant, and instead of showing it, you're pretending to be nothing—and it makes me feel stupid."
Her grip tightened.
"So listen. Participate. Win. Tell me what you want—and I'll give it to you."
Doe eyes met fox eyes.
Pale blue met deep black.
The air shifted.
Asher swallowed.
"Fine," he said finally. "I won't hold back."
Ava's breath hitched.
"But I want four wishes," he added. "Take it or leave it."
"What wishes?" she demanded.
"I'll tell you when I win," Asher replied calmly. "And when I feel like it."
Silence stretched.
"Good," Ava said, stepping back.
Just then, the bathroom door opened.
"Hey, who's in—" Asher's roommate stepped out, wearing only boxers.
Asher moved instantly, spinning Ava around and blocking the line of sight with his body.
"Get dressed," he said flatly.
"Would you go back inside instead of flashing your dirty boxers to the world?"
Asher's voice was clipped, irritation clear. He opened the door without waiting for a reply and firmly ushered Ava out.
"Hey—!" Ava protested.
The door shut in her face.
She stood there for a second, stunned, then pouted.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, kicking the door once before storming down the corridor toward her room.
Back in the City
The car slowed and came to a stop in an empty park, streetlights casting pale circles on the ground. No people. No noise. Just space.
Chen Yulan leaned back in his seat, fingers steepled.
"I heard you went to the golf club," he said calmly. "I wasn't around, but I heard everything. The receptionist too. Don't worry—I dealt with her."
Mary laughed softly, but there was no warmth in it.
"You had someone spying on me," she said. "Let's be honest. The moment you realized I liked Nathan Carter, I stopped being 'one of yours.'"
Chen Yulan didn't interrupt.
"The moment I got fired and came to you for help," Mary continued, eyes sharp, "you showed me exactly how disposable I was. You threw me out. I saw it—your reflection in the window."
She turned fully toward him.
"Now you know Nathan trusts me. He gave me the biggest tech project. Now you want back in."
Chen Yulan's gaze darkened.
"Don't forget the hand that fed you."
Mary smiled faintly.
"I didn't. But tell me—can you really handle this project right now? Your family's under pressure. You need this."
She leaned closer.
"And I need connections."
Silence stretched.
"Let's team up," she said lightly. "This project won't be the last. I secure my position. You stabilize yours. Everyone wins."
Chen Yulan studied her for a long moment.
"Fine," he said at last, extending his hand. "Let's play your game."
They shook.
Mary stepped out of the car and flagged down a taxi without looking back.
As the car pulled away, Chen Yulan's assistant hesitated.
"Sir… what's the plan?"
Chen Yulan smirked.
"Use her. She's a fool blinded by love."
The car disappeared into the night.
Mary sank into her couch the moment she got home, heels kicked aside.
The Chen family… she had already lost them.
Did they really think she was stupid enough to believe them after abandoning her when she needed help?
Now they wanted her project.
She laughed softly.
This project was her stepping stone—her spotlight. And yes, she needed Chen Yulan's connections.
But who said she gave him everything?
Let's see who chokes first, Mary thought.
Behind her smile, calculations turned cold.
And neither side realized—
they were already dancing inside someone else's trap.
........
The next day
A sharp alarm shattered the quiet lodge.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Groans erupted instantly—from the first floor, the second floor, even the hallway. Doors slammed, someone cursed loudly, and something hit a wall.
In the wide living room downstairs, the male teacher stood proudly, ringing the bell like it was a victory gong.
"They're definitely going to hate you for this," the female teacher beside him said lazily, tossing peanuts into her mouth. She shook her head at his enthusiasm. "Completely."
"I'm teaching them basic life skills," he replied without stopping. "Waking up early."
From upstairs, the curses grew louder.
Another female teacher laughed. "A day has finally come when rich kids have to listen to us."
Within half an hour, every student had gathered downstairs, faces dark, hair messy, eyes sharp with murder. They lined the hall in uneven clusters, glaring at the teachers like they were public enemies.
"The hell, sir?" a boy snapped, pointing straight at them. "Is this a camping trip or a 'die early' program? It's six in the morning!"
"Yesterday's barbecue ended at three!" another complained. "You gave us barely three hours of sleep. Don't kids need eight hours to survive?"
"Shh, shh," the male teacher cut in, hands on his waist. "Some of you slept at twelve. Some at ten. Do they have three heads?"
The students groaned.
"The reason you feel weak," he continued calmly, "is because you're not studying."
"How does studying even fit into this?" a girl asked, glaring at him.
"Of course it does," he said seriously. "Most of you already have university spots—local, abroad, whatever. Some are taking entrance exams. But at the end of the day, you all still have exams."
He paused, letting it sink in.
"And if you're studying for exams, then eight hours of sleep is a stupid dream. So don't blame me."
The hall filled with complaints.
"The moment we return to school," the female teacher added cheerfully, "I'm giving you a quiz."
Collective despair.
"I think they're training us for real life," Michael muttered, sighing.
"Alright," the male teacher clapped his hands. "To your teams. We're heading into the forest today."
Everyone groaned again.
"We have seventeen mobile house cars," he continued. "Each has five beds. Including teachers and students, we're one hundred and sixty people. Teachers take two cars, leaving fifteen."
He paced slowly.
"You have thirty teams, five members each. So two teams combine—ten people per mobile house. Two people per bed."
"Any problems?" he asked.
Every hand shot up.
"So no problem," he said smoothly. "Eat first. Pack light. We're heading downhill—hot springs, beautiful views. A bit of hunting, old-school style. History, art, real crafts."
He turned back suddenly.
"Oh, and you'll be cooking for yourselves. Limited ingredients. Waste them and you fast. No replacements."
The complaints exploded again.
"Pack only essentials," he added. "And stop staring like you want to kill me."
With that, he turned and walked off.
Students scattered—some rushing to grab food, some sneaking back upstairs for stolen minutes of sleep, others immediately regrouping into teams.
Michael grabbed Prim by the arm and dragged him toward Daniel.
"Let's team up," Michael said, glancing at Winter.
"Our team hasn't decided yet," Winter replied politely, smiling.
Madison rolled her eyes. "Let's just team up. We're all friends—except two outsiders."
She glanced briefly at Winter and then at the darker-skinned boy standing with Prim.
The unspoken tension lingered in the air.
---